In an old abandoned garage, sitting amongst empty buildings, in a place where no one with a reason would come. And inside the garage was the reason for many to come; the fluffy fighting. Not fully illegal, but looked down upon just as animal fighting is. The people in there are all shouting different things; fight, kill him, bite his legs, give him forever sleepy. In a ring, bathing in the light of strong lamps used for dark and gloomy places, 2 fluffies were battling it out. One was a orange unicorn, a smarty to the core that saw everyone else as filth. The second one was a newcomer, a blue pegasus that had one of its wings ripped off, crying for his mother while the smarty kept stomping on him.
âGet up, you useless rat!â the voices echoed behind the pegasus, but the cries were quickly shutdown with the soft squish of the fluffies head, right before he cried out for his mother with all his might. That was the last fight for the night, and thus the people all left, some happy with their newly won money, while others were angry, kicking old barrels in frustration. Left behind are the owners of the ring, Matthew and Charles. They both share a pack of ciggs, sitting outside the building theyâve been using for these fights for some time now, with a bucket of baby fluffies in it.
âSo when will the next fight be?â asks Charles, grabbing a baby, and takes aim for a broken window. He throws, and the baby makes a soft squish noice as it lands on the ground , around a meter from the window. It squeaks for its mother, as it lands on a broken bottle, gutting it. It remains alive for a few seconds, before going silent. Charles simply grunts at his miss.
âIn 2 days.â Matthew answers, grabbing a baby for himself, throwing it towards the window, but throws too hard, making the baby explode upon impact.
âWhoâll be fighting?â
Charles grabs a new baby, throwing it into the window, but not breaking it. He muffles a quick âshitâ under his breath as he exhales a cloud of smoke. From behind them the mother of the fluffies comes waddling, crying and begging for them to stop this. He hindlegs have been broken off, and all sheâs being used for now is a breeding mare for their fighter fluffy, the orange smarty from before.
âPwease, daddehs⌠Babbehs be fow wuv an huggies an-â
Before she could continue, the orange smarty had bit into her rear, and began dragging her back inside. She screamed for help, but none would hear her out here. Not that anyone would care for her.
âBox seems to like his new toy. Was a good ivestment to get her.â comments Matthew, grabbing a baby, throwing, and manages to land it in a barrel, with a active fire in it. It squeals into the darkness of the night, followed by silence.
âInvestment? We just grabbed her from an alleyway.â replies Charles, chuckling.
âWell, she had a tag, didnât she? Anyways, if she ran off, then the owners oughta be happy. Lil cunt is annoying.â
âYeah, well, hopefully Box can win the next fight. He seems to be wearing down in quality.â
Matthew doesnât answer at first, but simply grabs a new baby, and puts out his cigg on it, throwing it to his left, landing in a yard filled with guard dogs. It it is quickly devoured by a dobberman, the men have begun calling Glutty, for its love of eating fluffies.
âMight have an idea, though he might die after itâs all done.â
âOh yeah? What ya got in mind?â
Matthew simply smirks, standing up with a baby in hand. âYouâll see.â he answers, before throwing the baby right through the broken window. âBullseye.â
During the night of the next sets of fights, Matthew had come a bit late, a brown bag from some shitty fastfood chain in hand.
âYouâre late. You already missed a fight between Jamesâ new fluffy, and the red earthie from last week.â Charles comments as Matthew stands next to him, behind all the people watching the fight.
âWell, I got the goods, so it is for a good cause. Or, a good fight.â
âWhat did you get him? Cheeseburger?â Charles chuckles.
âHaha, no. Stronger things.â Matthew answers, shaking the bag. Something hard is in it. Charles seems to understand what it is already, and he just chuckles.
âWell, the lil cunt is up next, so better give him it.â
In their so called âofficeâ of this fine establishment, Box has his playroom. Although, it is more of a empty room with a bed, water and food bowl, and his breeding mare, chained up in a corner, shivering and crying as she gives birth to a new batch.
âAright, Box. Youâre gonna go out with a bang tonight, or live to be loved by many.â Matthew explains as he closes in on Box.
Box looks up at him, his upperlip having ripped open a bit. His horn has long since been gnawed off, and been replaced with a metal one. Heâs missing furr in many places, mainly due from the stress and anxeity the fighting brings him, but also from fighters that ripped it off him.
âBox nu wan fight anehmowe, daddehâŚâ he sobs, licking his bloody hoof. An old wound had reopened, it seems.
âTough shit, shitrat. Youâre fighting even if you donât want to.â Matthew retorts, kicking Box in his side. Box gasps for air, but does not cry, for he has learned that there is no use. Grabbing a hold of the neckfurr, Matthew takes him into the ring, with the bag in his other hand.
âLadies and gentlemen! We will have a special fight for our dear Box tonight! Heâll be fighting 4 fluffies at once! Now, that might sound a bit much for just one fluffy, even though he is the champ of the ring, but worry not. Heâll be getting some aid.â Charles calls out over the arena, as Matthew places down Box. From the bag, he pulls out 3 needles, huddled together he presses them into his neck, injecting all of it at once.
It hits Box right away. His eyes expand, and foam begins forming from his mouth. Heâs shaking violently right now, and the fluffies heâs against all begin to cover, begging for their owners to help them out. But alas, it is too late for them nowâŚ
âFight!â
Box sets off right away, leaping onto a black pegasus. Now, while it isnât unusual for this to happen, the carnage that followed was. Box began to rip off the wings, a common move, but he didnât just throw them away; he ate them. He bit down once more onto the fluffysâ neck, and ripped out a large chunk. The fluffy gasped for help, while Box not only devoured him alive, but also raping him. One of the people in the crowd began to vomit, into the ring from the sight, hitting a brown unicorn.
âYucky! Nu am poopie babbeh anemowe! Am gud fwuffeh!â he cried out, but this only alerted Box tohis location, making him sprint right over, hitting the fluffy right in its own horn with hsi metallic one. Box pushed the fluffy so hard backwards, that when they came to the ringsâ walls, he didnât stop. He kept pressing, making the flufy explode violently into a gorey red rain of blood, and shit. Its face had been pushed all the way in, pushing the horn to be flipped outwards. The remaining fluffies all cried for help, but this only sealed their fate more. The last two did try to fight it out a bit, but alas they fell like flies to Box.
The gorey aftermath was quite disgusting, even for the casuals to this arena. And it didnât stop, nay, for Box began raping the corpses, and eating them more and more. In the end, Box cried out a roar of victory, or hunger, but the foam began to fill his mouth, making him choke. And then the seizures came, hitting Box hard enough for him to break his own spine with his flailing on the ground, and then his neck, and then he was still, the foam pouring outwards.
âWell, it looks like Box has been retired! Whom will become the new champ?! Welcome back tomorrow night to see for yourselves!â Charles calls out, as the people began to pour out. The money they made from it all was indeed beautiful, and could easily afford them more fighters; or drugs for them.